They reached the steps and climbed up to the portico. At the top, Grey turned and raised both hands for silence.

When the hubbub died down, he said in a voice that filled the courtyard, “I can’t describe how much it means to be welcomed home like this. For ten long years, I’ve dreamed of Summerhill. Of my family”—he clapped Peter on the shoulder—“and of my friends. Like you, Mrs. Henry, who made me work in your garden if I was to earn your wonderful gingerbread.”

The crowd laughed while a large woman called back, “Just this once I’ll send a batch to the big house to celebrate your homecoming!”

“If you forget, you’ll find me on your doorstep, hungry,” he promised. His gaze moved across the upturned faces. “I’d think about all the pretty Lloyd daughters. I see that there are two more now than when I left.” More laughter. He added, “Before I forget, I want to say that my father is recovering well from his accident, so you won’t have to deal with me for some time.”

More cheers and laughter. Cassie watched admiringly as Grey continued talking to his friends and neighbors with wit and charm. He truly was born to Summerhill. These people were proof of how generations of Sommerses had cared for their land and their tenants. How they loved, and were loved in return.

Her eyes stung from a mixture of emotions. Pride in Grey. Envy of his powerful sense of belonging. And regret that she would never see this connection between Grey and his community again, because it really was time for her to leave. Grey had everything he needed right here.

A voice called out, “Tell us what happened, Lord Wyndham, or we’ll make up stories that will curdle milk!”

“Can’t have that.” Grey hesitated. “The story is simple, really, and I have every intention of forgetting the details, so don’t ask me more. Ten years ago I was in Paris and I offended a high government official just as the Truce of Amiens ended. It was a chaotic time, so the official threw me into his own private dungeon out in the country. Ten years of one boring day after another, so there isn’t much to tell. When I finally escaped, I headed north and found a smuggler to bring me home. And here I am.”

“Who’s the lady?” a woman called. “Is she the next countess?”

Grey took Cassie’s hand and drew her forward with a whispered, “Sorry.” Turning to the crowd, he said, “This is Miss Catherine St. Ives of Norfolk, who helped me escape. I hope to persuade her to stay. Will you give her a Dorsetshire welcome?”

The crowd burst into roars and applause while Cassie blushed bright red. Damn her pale redhead’s complexion!

Grey waved a farewell. “Miss St. Ives is tired so I’ll say good-bye and thank you. I shall never forget this day.”

As soon as they were inside and the door closed behind them, he crushed her in his arms and shook. She felt his hammering heart against her breasts. “Thank you for rescuing me once again,” he said roughly. “The welcome was wonderful in theory, but I wouldn’t have lasted much longer without behaving badly.”

“I think you would have lasted as long as necessary.” She stroked a calming hand down his back. “But you’ve been tested enough for one day.”

Peter followed them in, closing the door behind him. “People obviously prefer you to inherit rather than me,” he said cheerfully. He sobered when he saw his brother’s strained face. “That really was hard on you! I thought Cassie was exaggerating.”

“She’s very good at keeping me from falling apart,” Grey said wryly, not letting Cassie go. “All those people just showed up? I was afraid it meant that Father had died.”

Peter winced. “That would look similar, wouldn’t it? When Mother saw tenants arriving, she sent me out to play host while she arranged for refreshments. I think half the reason people came was because this is the first real spring day we’ve had, and everyone wanted an excuse to celebrate.”

“So my return was the excuse.” Grey relaxed enough to end the embrace, though he kept an arm around Cassie. “And by coming here, they had a good shot at Summerhill cider and ale and probably Summerhill hams and cheeses as well.”

“An opportunity they took full advantage of,” Lady Costain said from above. She glided down the stairs, one hand on the railing and looking every inch a countess. “I was about to send out grooms to find you, Grey. But when you did return, you handled it all well. Your father was watching from his room.”

“He must be much stronger,” Grey said. “Which probably means he’ll be down for dinner tonight.”

His mother laughed. “Indeed he will. Since we have so much reason to be grateful, I decided that tonight we’ll have a special celebration feast just for the family. Elizabeth and her husband will join us. Catherine, do you have a favorite dish I should ask the cook to prepare?”

Cassie blinked. Apparently she was no longer a fortune-hunting slut. After a moment’s thought, she said, “There’s a sweet I loved when I was a child, an apple tart made with a handful of currants that have been soaked in brandy. It was served warm with custard or cream on special occasions.”

“Apple with currants soaked in brandy?” The countess looked intrigued. “That sounds excellent, and well within my kitchen’s capacity. Grey, I imagine you would still enjoy Mrs. Bradford’s special roast lamb?”

“Oh, yes,” he said fervently. “With mint sauce.”

“I shall see you at dinner then.” With a gracious nod to her sons and Cassie, Lady Costain sailed off for the kitchen.

“My mother now thinks of you as part of the family,” Grey observed.

“She could hardly forbid me the table when I’m your guest,” Cassie pointed out. “I need to examine my wardrobe to see what will suit a family celebration in the country when half the guests have titles.”

“You could wear that habit and look beautiful,” Grey assured her.

“But not appropriate! I’ll see you later.” She caught up her skirts and climbed the stairs. When she reached her room, she rang for Hazel, who appeared promptly. “You’re the perfect maid,” Cassie observed. “Good at all the maidly skills, but since you’re one of Kirkland’s people, we can gossip as equals.”

Hazel bobbed a very proper curtsy. “I’ve much experience as a maid. It’s a good way to gather information without being noticed.”

Cassie nodded. Maids, like old peddlers, were usually invisible. “I need something very nice but not too flamboyant to wear for dinner tonight. The earl will come down for the first time since his accident, and they want to celebrate Lord Wyndham’s return as well. Two escapes from death.” Cassie grinned. “Lady Kiri threw this wardrobe together for me so quickly I’m not sure what I have.”

“There’s a green satin gown that will look a treat with your red hair,” Hazel said. “It’s not as full or long as a ball gown and the neckline isn’t as deep, but it’s handsome enough for a special dinner. It might need a bit of altering, so you’d best try it on after you’re out of the riding habit.”

“I’m really fortunate that Lady Kiri’s sister is so close to me in size and has such a generous nature.” Cassie turned so Hazel could unfasten the back of her habit. “Are you bored here with no spies or indiscreet government ministers to watch?”

Hazel laughed as she undid one of the ties. “It’s been very restful. This is the rarest of places, a happy household.”

“Unusual indeed. What do the servants think of Lord Wyndham’s return?”

“Everyone is delighted, particularly the older folks who knew him better. They say he’s very like his father, and that’s good for Summerhill.” Hazel tugged the gown over Cassie’s head. “The more thoughtful folk recognize that ten years in prison change a man. They hope he hasn’t changed too much.”

“He’s remarkably resilient, so I think they have no reason to worry about their future here.” Cassie raised her arms so Hazel could drop the green satin gown over her. “What do they think of Peter? For years he’s been considered the heir.”

Hazel smoothed the fabric over Cassie’s figure. “He’s well liked and people thought he’d have done a decent job if he’d inherited, but they think his elder brother will do the job best.”

“I’m sure they’re right. Grey truly loves this estate and all the responsibilities that go with it.” As Hazel pinned the gown in several places, Cassie tried not to think about the perfect lady needed to match Grey’s perfect lord.


Chapter 38

Grey’s eyes widened as Cassie descended the staircase in a shimmer of green satin. “You look splendid. The gown is perfect for tonight.”

Though she laughed, she was pleased by his warm admiration. “Since you were happy with my riding habit, I don’t know how much I should trust your judgment.”

He offered his arm. “I assure you that I’ve always had impeccable taste when it comes to dressing women.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I’m equally good at undressing them.”

“Shhhh!” she said with a blush as they entered the small salon where the family was gathering for pre-dinner drinks. Lord Costain was seated on a sofa rather than standing, but he looked very well. His wife was beside him, and they held hands like besotted newlyweds.

Cassie made a deep curtsy in front of them. “I am glad to see you so well, my lord. I thank you both for your courtesy to an unexpected guest.”

Lord Costain smiled benevolently. “Very prettily said. My wife and I could not be happier to meet our son’s future bride, and to find her so suitable.” A glint in Lady Costain’s eyes suggested that she wasn’t entirely in agreement with her husband’s statement, but her smile was gracious.

Peter entered the salon followed by his sister and her husband. John Langtry was pleasant looking rather than strikingly handsome like the Sommers men, but he had an appealing smile and he and Elizabeth clearly doted on each other.

Cassie was pleased to see how relaxed Grey was with his family now that the initial hurdles had been cleared. He talked easily, shared reminiscences with his brother-in-law, and was attentive to Cassie so she didn’t feel like the odd woman out.

After half an hour of relaxed conversation, Lady Costain got to her feet. “Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”

“An excellent plan,” Grey said. “I hear a roast lamb calling my name.”

Cassie smiled, looking forward to Grey’s lamb and the St. Ives apple currant tart. As she stood, the butler appeared in the door. “There are two gentlemen here to see Miss St. Ives.”

Hard on his heels were two well-dressed young men around Cassie’s age. They were of similar height and build, though one was a bit taller and broader. The men were clearly related by blood—and they had auburn hair the exact shade of Cassie’s.

“Look at the hair! It has to be her!” the leaner one hissed to the other. Raising his voice, he asked eagerly, “Catherine? Are you our Cat?”

Cassie’s wineglass dropped from nerveless fingers and smashed on the floor as she stared at the newcomers. When she had known her cousins, they’d all been children with faces not yet fully formed, but in the features of these grown men she saw echoes of her dark-haired, long-dead brother, Paul.

Rushing memories tightened her throat so she could barely speak. Gazing at the leaner man, she breathed, “Richard?” Her gaze shifted to the other. “Neil?”

She swayed until Grey put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You are Cassie St. Ives’s cousins?” he asked.

“We certainly are!” Richard drew Cassie into an exuberant hug. “Cat, dear God, it’s a miracle! We thought you were dead.” He pulled back without letting go of her and asked hesitantly, “Did … did anyone else survive?”

She shook her head, tears running down her face. “Only me.”

The other young man moved his brother aside. “Being the heir doesn’t mean you get all the hugs, Richard.” His embrace was rib bruising. “You’d better remember me also, Cat, or I’m going to put frogs in your bed!”

“If you do, you’ll find one in yours, too!” she said with a catch of laughter. She leaned into her younger cousin’s embrace. He was tall and strong, a man now. The three of them had been close in age and they were a large part of the childhood she’d buried in the depths of unbearable memory. “You’ve grown, Neil. I used to be able to defeat you when we wrestled.”

“And didn’t our mothers hate when we did that!” he chuckled.

Richard turned toward the fascinated gazes of the Sommers family. Bowing to the earl and countess, he said, “Lord Costain, Lady Costain. Please accept my apologies for intruding on a family occasion. My only excuse is that once we learned that our cousin might be alive, we were desperate to learn the truth.”

“We above all can understand what it is like to experience this kind of miracle,” Lord Costain said. “Our prodigal son was missing for only ten years. Your prodigal cousin has been lost for nigh on twenty years.”